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Waiting For Father Christmas
The fab Llyr Mansion, Christmas Day music Carol and Rhiannon didn’t half-ass Christmas decorations, ever, and they surely hadn’t done so this year either. A large Christmas tree stood in the hall with sparkly garlands and ribbons in gold, silver and red, balls of every colour, little angel and fairy figurines and chocolate rings. A fire burned in the fireplace and Christmas songs played in the background. The table had a festive cloth draped over it and was decked with cutlery and food of all sorts, a large ham in the center of the table and cups of hot chocolate at every seat, and as-yet unopened bottles of white and red wine off to the side. Gwendolyn sat opposite from Elle, enjoying every bite and every sip. She had a healthy blush on her face, from the warmth and the company, as she occasionally looked over at Olivia beside her (usually followed by a quick cautious look at Josie Mann right after). Elle was excitedly chatting with her neighbour at the table, an 8 foot tall robot with a long mane of artificial golden hair under a crown, wearing a white and gold tunic with a red cape. G.A.I.A had excitedly accepted the invitation to join as her date, but had insisted that perhaps their spaceship body would not be suited to christmas dinner. Which was probably correct. At some point during the dinner, Gwen’s gaze settles on Elle. Thoughts are churning in her head, pondering their last encounters, what was said, what went unsaid. Gwen had lashed out quite strongly the last time they had talked over the phone, the same day that Olivia disappeared--though she didn’t know it yet--and hadn’t talked one-on-one with Elle during their last mission, where Elle fought Chimera . All her personal interactions with her during that time and since then had been a little stiff, curt, “polite”. No surprise, Elle had consistently been trying to act “dad-like” in space and after, and it had rubbed Gwen the wrong way. Getting called “daughter” by her felt… somehow wrong. She still had no full-proof certainty by herself that Elle was who she claimed to be: a younger version of Gwen’s father Lancelot du Lac . Or did she? She’d never wanted to use her retrocognition on Elle. Perhaps all this time she had been holding herself back on doing so, because she didn’t want Elle to be right. On the other hand, there was living with this uncertainty hanging over her head. And Lavender and Rhiannon had kind of pushed her to talk to Elle and accept her… She needed an answer, either way. If she had certainty, maybe she could accept Elle then in a capacity more than just a teammate. Maybe she might not be able to call her “dad”, but she could call her “friend”? She cleared her throat. “Hey, uh, Elle? Could you pass the salt, please?” Elle looks up from playfully squeezing G.A.I.A’s arm to ‘feel the robot muscles’, a surprised smile on her face. “Oh! Uh, yes, it’s right here.” She reaches over the table to hand it over. Gwen reached over and deliberately brushed her fingers against Elle’s hand and activated her retrocognition. Time to experience what Elle’s past was. Mentally, she took the deepest of breath, as if she was about to jump into a big lake. Scenes flash in front of her eyes like comic book pages being flipped. “ – This is the best you have? A fake Lancelot?” A deep, guttural voice, as if from five different throats, booms. The room is encased in shadow, and the sounds of fighting come from the floors below. To the left, the wounded form of Godspeed struggles to get up. Pain flashes as the gigantic claw encasing Elle constricts. Power builds within, and explodes as she bursts out. “Even if I am a fake, that would still be good enough to beat you.” -- Crimera lies defeated, surrounded by heroes. “Let me be clear.” Godspeed’s voice turns cold, the super smile vanishing. “I know what you are. I don’t trust you. And if there is ever even the slightest sign of you going down that path –“ The hair on Elle’s neck stands up, and she looks around. The mood in the room has shifted. All of the adult heroes are looking at her, and none in a friendly way. Sledge grips her hammer. “We will take you down.” Lancelot breathes in. “I don’t want you to trust me.” -- A rooftop in Halcyon City comes into view, overlooking part of a residential district. Elle and Dominik are sitting next to each other, bent over a large book. Elle excitedly jabs a gauntleted finger at an illustration of a dragon, and tells a story. Dom laughs. -- A horizontal swipe takes out the rest of the soldiers, and Elle lowers her spear. She’s in an alley, surrounded by the groaning bodies of G.R.E.Y troops. A radio crackles on one of them, and she walks over to pick it up. “This is Lancelot. Your men are defeated. Please send more.” The radio breaks as she squashes it in her hand. Her eyes flash, and as she summons her spear back, the energy that usually shines a gleaming gold is instead deep purple. Similar scenes flash by, revealing a pattern of combat throughout the city across weeks. -- A tear falls, blotting out half the word she just wrote. She corrects it before folding the letter and standing up. She walks to a corner of the room dominated by a huge, ornate carved mirror, scrollwork at the top reading AVALON. Shaking, Elle attempts to stuff the letter in the mirror. It crumples when it makes contact with the glass. She sighs and puts it on a large stack of similarly unsent letters standing next to the mirror. They all read Dear Deirdre. -- Elle sits in a room in the Big Base with Freedo and Casper , handing around a joint. They’re laughing and telling each other jokes. A phone rings. The screen reads Gwendolyn. Elle’s face lights up in joy. -- In the corridor of G.A.I.A’s ship body, Elle checks that Gwen has gone to talk to Parrot before sneaking into her room. She carefully makes her way over to Nimue and puts her hands on the blade. She begs the spirit to come back, to help Gwen. Tells her she needs her, that she’s in danger and that Elle is not enough. As if in response the blade darkens, turns red. A face comes to the surface. It isn’t Nimue. Elle’s face contorts in fear as Lancelot sneers at her. He calls her worthless, a pale imitation of him. He asks her a question, but it feels like an order. She tries to pull away, but her hands are stuck to the blade. She promises. -- Several scenes flash by – Elle meeting the big team, being apprehended by the police for her role in an attack on the park, meeting Shanelle – before they… change. The next scenes are different, strange, like seen through a filter. Occasionally they seem to waver. -- A 5-year old child with blonde pigtails runs through the corridors of a medieval estate, swinging her wooden sword and yelling. A servant in a dragon costume runs away. “Should we really let Lottie play with that thing, Rio? She might hurt herself.” Leodornach asks, looking up from a book. “And that would be a valuable lesson. She might as well get used to thinking of swords as dangerous before they give her a real one. Besides, we knew what we were getting into when we named her Lancelot.” Riodeam replies. He puts his hand on Leo’s hand and squeezes. “Don’t worry. She’ll be great.” -- On Lancelot’s 8th birthday, a someone new moves in next door, with the 3 witches that were living there. They’re strange. For one, instead of arriving by cart, they seemed to just magically appear on the doorstep with all of their things, and their clothes were decidedly not Avalonian. But hospitality is important, and the du Lacs invite the family to dinner. The children, of course, are shoved together in the hopes that the parents will have some peace and quiet. The girl is taller than Lancelot, and obviously a few years older, but she smiles down at them. “It’s Lancelot, right? I will call you LanLan! My name is Deirdre.” LanLan immediately loves her. -- Scenes flash by as Lancelot grows up. 10-year old LanLan plays tag with Arthur . 12-year old Lance puts on his new page outfit before walking out into the dining hall to serve on the knights. -- 14-year old El standing guard in the hallways of Camelot, watching the king’s retinue pass and go into an audience chamber. The last in line - Merlin - pauses, and looks at them. His eyes grow cold. He jabs a long, wrinkled finger at their chest. “Child of the Lake, successor of legends: the curse of your legacy is yours to bear. A heart pure gives and receives love from many, but in time your love shall plant seeds of poison wherever it treads, and turn to suffering. Your rage in response will blacken the earth.” Merlin turns, and walks through the door. -- 15-year old Elle, in the tunic of a squire, spars with Arthur. She seems to be winning until she catches the eyes of Deirdre and Guinevere, sitting on the sidelines. She blushes. Arthur stabs her in the stomach with the practice sword. -- Scenes of fighting. Elle covering the retreat of her wounded knight, fighting off several soldiers. The aftermath, looking over the battlefield, not knowing if any of the dead were her doing. Other, less mundane battle scenes. Werewolves in the forest. A dragon in the ruins of a village. -- Avalon, the day of her departure. Elle stands just outside the gates of Camelot, in full armour, spear at her side. She seems nervous but excited. A small group has assembled to send her off – her fathers, some neighbours, her friends, Arthur, and Deirdre. “Well, uh, this is it, I guess. When I come back, I will be a knight.” She smiles. “Finally.” Her father ruffles her hair, telling her he believes in her. Arthur punches her in the shoulder playfully and jokes about how he thought he’d be a grey old man before she ever earned her knighthood. Finally, Deirdre steps forward. The rest of the assembled send off party looks at each other and walks back inside. Deirdre kisses her. “Come back to me.” -- Gwen was frozen in that brief moment in time, and then for a little longer. Her fingers trembled against Elle’s hand, limply reaching for the salt. So much had flashed before her, so many experiences rushing in at once, left her overwhelmed--and that was even before she could begin to think of the contents of those experiences! First and last of all, had that been her own mother as a young woman? KISSING Elle? Kissing HER? A strange feeling of existential horror rose up from within her stomach. Above everything else, that already proved beyond the shadow of any reasonable doubt she’d had that Elle was Lancelot du Lac, well and truly, in the flesh, and with too much saliva. The parts of Elle’s past earlier than that cemented that even more. A young King Arthur and Guinevere, Gwen’s grandfathers Leodornach and Riodeam, and scenes from Elle’s time with the Big Team as if to confirm Gwen wasn’t somehow going through the past of someone else. No fae magicks here, as far as she knew. Just a weird shimmery effect. Actually… what was that? A veil of doubt returned over Gwen. She’d have to catch Elle alone later to talk about this. Maybe after the main course was over. She grabbed the salt shaker. “Thanks, Elle.” Elle’s smile widens, and she takes her hand back. “You’re welcome, Gwendolyn. I am glad you came. Both of you.” She nods to Rekken before turning back to her conversation with G.A.I.A. ---------------------- music After the main course has concluded and Carol informed everyone that dessert would be served an hour hence, Gwen excuses herself to go to the bathroom. She splashes some water into her face and dries herself off, muttering to herself in the mirror, trying to talk courage into herself. Coming back to the living room, she looks around for Elle. She takes a deep breath, goes to get herself a cup of hot chocolate first, and takes a sip before recoiling at how hot it still is. Then she walks over to Elle with slowing steps. “Hey, um, Elle, could I talk to you for a moment?” Elle had been talking to Rhiannon at the table, sipping her second mug of hot chocolate, but turns to Gwen when she walks up. “Yes, of course! Thank you, Rhiannon, you’ve been a great help, I will try that.” She follows Gwen. Gwen walks out into the hallway and to the back of the mansion, without going all the way to the parts of the building that are locked off. Parts of the mansion went unused with only three people living there, even when there were a lot of guests. She stopped in the game room, past uncle Declan’s billiards table, and stood in front of a large window overlooking the gardens. Snow was gently falling down. The field stretching out before her into the darkness looked crisp. A pair of snowmen stood a small distance away from the building. The taller one’s hat had been blown off by the wind. Elle laughs upon seeing the snowmen. “Last time I made snowmen with Arthur, he hid inside of a snowdrift and pulled at my feet so I fell face first into the snowman I was making. It is nice to see that no matter how different things are here, you still make snowmen.” She turns to Gwen, and puts down her mug on the windowsill. “What did you want to talk to me about?” “It’s probably snowing in Avalon now, too,” Gwen remarks with a nod. She looks pensive. Almost solemn. She stirs her hot chocolate with a spoon and watches as the whipped cream sinks into the liquid. She considers how to broach the subject. Should she admit right away what she had done at dinner? It was a shameful thing--to her--to use her powers on someone without their permission, at least when they weren’t putting lives in danger. Should she apologize for her outburst over a week before? Gwen thought that would be proper, even if she did feel it was justified at the time. She fiddles with the spoon, uncertain of whether to lead with that. Should she start off by asking Elle why she’d been calling her ‘daughter’ all this time and trying to act like her father to her? Gwen definitely needed to do that, though she didn’t want to lead with that either. Should she just stab her and hope she didn’t fade from the timeline? Most definitely not, but after watching Back To The Future with Freedo, she couldn’t help but be concerned with all the ways time could get fucked up. They’d already messed around with space, it made sense that Time would come a-knocking sooner or later. “It’s nice to get a quiet moment here,” Gwen opened, gesturing at the snowmen. “Not just here, in the midst of the sometimes crowded feeling a big gathering can instill, but a quiet moment in the midst of all our heroics every day.” Internally, she scoffed at herself, noticing how formal she sounded. Why are you like this? she’d ask herself, only to know already that it was because of that very same father she wished to talk about with the woman she now knew was also him. She’d never paid too close attention to how her father carried himself and represented himself, that was his business and she would just address him as he wished and respect him as she should anyone. Still, having to accept a version of her father that was younger than even herself, a young woman, a young woman who nevertheless exhibited many of her father’s qualities like his kindness (though more warm rather than cool), his sense for justice and flirting with anything remotely attractive, was still difficult. Not so much the “young woman” part (not at all, really), but the fact that there was a different person who was also her father, the same person, at the same time as her father still being there--just in an otherworldly Hell-prison… that was something that helped make the whole situation, in Gwen’s mind, a complex and layered lasagna of fucked up. Gwen takes a deep breath. “You did a heck of a great job with Chimera last week,” Gwen commends Elle, “and you’ve been a great teammate all throughout our travels through space.” Oh God, how to broach this? She takes a long, nervous sip of her hot chocolate, hoping it will calm her down, help her center herself. “I...” she wipes away some whipped cream that had stuck to her nose. “I have to admit, I’m a little bothered when you call me ‘daughter’. Why do you do that?” Elle leans against the windowsill and takes a deep breath. “I am sorry, Gwen. I never really thought about what that must be like for you.” She fidgets with the collar of her shirt nervously. “I don’t really understand it myself. I am a teenager; I am not supposed to have children. Not in this day and age. And yet… The moment I saw you and learned who you were, it was like I had no choice in the matter. In how I felt. I instantly cared, I…” “I don’t know if that was something in me or some sort of bleed, that your father’s feelings were given to me. That happens sometimes. I don’t think the world enjoys two of the same people being around.” “It isn’t just that though. You are a wonderful person. Kind, strong, just. I see you and I feel so proud. I see myself and Deirdre in you. To someone who has only just realized their own feelings for her…” Elle blushes. “It is like having a living testament to that relationship right there. I miss her a lot, but when I see you it is like she is here as well.” “I don’t know if any of this will help you. As I said, I never really thought about what it must be like for you until the… Until you basically told me as much. I have tried to be more distant since then, to give you space.” “I understand if this bothers you. If a teenage version of Father showed up and wanted to be my friend…” She laughs. “That would be weird.” “Right?!” Gwen laughed along with Elle, though hers sounded a bit more nervous and awkward. “I certainly wouldn’t want any or all of my grandparents’ teenage selves to show up. Certainly not mam’s coven mothers.” She shook her head with a smile, which slowly faded. “For a while, at first, I didn’t know if I could trust you, you know, because of… all that. Nimue gave me a sense of confidence that what you said was true and that I should trust you, but that’s not always enough for me. I considered more than once using my powers on you, but I didn’t, because I didn’t know for sure if I wanted to know for sure, whether I was ready to accept that you’re the same person, that you’re my… my father.” Gwen takes a deep breath. “I think I’m ready to accept that now. And, um… thanks for calling me a wonderful person.” She sips her hot chocolate, trying to hide the creeping blush at Elle’s compliments. Elle smiles in relief at that. “Oh dear God no, those witches are terrifying. Deirdre once turned me into a frog rather than get caught sneaking me into their library.” Elle laughs. “I don’t think they were fooled. They were oddly interested in me for a simple frog. ‘Oh what a wonderful frog Deirdre wherever did you get such a fine specimen? How did you know a frog was the last thing I needed for the spell I was working on?’ If I hadn’t been a frog at the time I would have screamed.” “Does Nimue speak to you often? She has never said a word to me. Not directly. She sent me here, but... “ She shakes her head. “I grew up on stories of her. I prayed to her, at the lake - and she did answer, in a way - but I’ve never heard her.” “Oh, all the time,” Gwen nods. “She gives me advice, whispers to me what would be best to say to someone to make them feel better, if I don’t understand myself. Little bits of tactical comments in battle, rarely. She’s kind of like a mentor and mother, I guess? Just… one that you can leave behind more easily, but is still always there for you.” Gwen stares out the window at the snow. “I do sometimes feel like there’s a weird disconnect between me and her. I control when she’s with me, but I need her for so much, and yet I can’t simply carry her everywhere in this society where swords and most proper weapons are not allowed in public.” The girl falls silent. She thinks more about Nimue, what she’s told her, how she talks to her about her friends and her position in the world. It feels so two-faced to her sometimes, but she lacks the words to really express her discomfort with the fae being, her ancestor. Now, after the mission from the day before, she even was a little scared to summon her again. Gwen holds up a hand as if she’s about to do so, then places it against the glass. “It’s cold,” she softly remarks. Elle nods thoughtfully. “She may be our ancestor, but she is still a faerie. I don’t mean to say that the love and attention she shows you isn’t genuine - I truly believe she does care for us - but we can never truly understand her. She has a completely different perspective on life, on time. To her, a life like mine would be over in seconds… Why would she speak to someone who will be gone the next moment? I will admit to some jealousy. I always hoped to meet her one day.” “I suppose there’s that,” Gwen nods slightly. “I’m still not entirely sure why she came to me while I was in GREY. She tells me it was to safeguard me, and by extension her family’s future, but I’m not sure how much of that I can believe or trust.” Trust. The word lays heavy in the air. Gwen scolds herself for it, as right now she’s still withholding so much from Elle. She bites her lip. “You know, Elle… yesterday, when we found Olivia at that old warehouse? I dropped Nimue the moment she ran up to me at the end, when she said she remembered everything. Like a brick. Nimue has been the one I could count on and talk to for a year, and I just… dropped her.” Gwen looks at Elle, looking kind of scared. “And I forgot to summon her back for a while. I didn’t until after we’d already torched that GREY facility.” Elle looks concerned at that. “Did something happen to make you act that way towards her? To make you so hesitant to have her with you?” “No! I just… Maybe? I don’t think… No, not really,” Gwen argues against herself. “I just legitimately forgot. Maybe it was the stress of that whole day, maybe I was just too distracted with kissing Olivia and setting the building on fire, maybe…” She groaned and ran her free hand through her hair. “I don’t know! I guess I fucked up? I apologized to her afterwards, but… it can be hard to get through to her, like trying to convince your family to let you keep the gramlins you somehow managed to drag home.” Elle nods. “You have had a lot on your plate. It has been a very stressful few months for all of us, but… Especially for you. That can be a strain on all relationships, and sometimes especially on those closest to us.” Elle laughs softly. “At least, that’s what Dad tells me.” “Yeah, I guess so.” Gwen finishes up her hot chocolate and stares into the cup, twisting around the spoon uselessly, stirring nothing. “Hey, um,” she starts, stops, stirs a little more. “I… you know how my powers work? The ones I don’t get from Nimue?” Elle looks Gwen in the eyes. “You see the past of objects and people?” “Yyyesss… that’s what it is, exactly,” Gwen gestures with the spoon in Elle’s direction without looking up. “I, um… I may have used them on you to ‘see’ your past specifically. To kind of… determine… to get over my uncertainty… to know whether… you know, to figure out if you were really Lancelot, as in my father.” She glances sideways at Elle, head down. Elle pauses to collect her thoughts. “I won’t lie and say I don’t feel betrayed. I would have let you do it, had you asked.” She breathes out, working the feelings out of her body. “But I think you have the right to know, and I understand why you did it this way.” “I hope you didn’t see anything bad, or that you can’t forget.” “I’m sorry Elle.” Gwen bites her lip as she looks up again. The images of Elle’s past flash by again. Sparring with Arthur, meeting Deirdre, running around as a child with a sword. “No, nothing bad.” Elle telling Halcyon’s adult heroes not to trust her, her making a promise she cannot hear to a red-glowing Nimue with her father’s face reflected in the blade, Merlin delivering a dark prophecy to El in such a matter-of-fact and casual manner. “Not… really, I don’t think.” The faces of her grandfathers, battlefields, her mother kissing Elle. Gwen’s face briefly contorts at the memory. “And some thing I do hope to forget, but also… also it was nice to see my mother again, and dad-cu Leodornach and grandfather Riodeam again.” Gwen shuffles her feet a little and steps closer to Elle. “Look, Elle,” her hand trembles a little before she grasps her cup tighter. “I… I apologize for being so sneaky about it like some blackguard.” Elle shakes her head. It had hurt to have Gwen not trust her, given how few people she knew in this world, and if it took this to fix that, it was worth it. “I forgive you. I am glad it helped.” She puts a hand on Gwen’s shoulder, and attempts a reassuring smile. “Hey, I hope you get to see them all again soon.” Elle’s smile and the hand on her shoulder made familiar feelings come over Gwen and comfort her. A shy smile wavered its way onto her face. “Thanks father.” The words slipped out before she knew it, and her hand smacked against her mouth right after when she realized it. Elle’s smile widens, and she pulls Gwen in for a hug. Category:Gwendolyn du Lac Category:Lancelot-Less Category:Scenes Category:B-Verse